


Transformation

by Ischa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 17:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1313563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy is assumed lost in the Forbidden Forest, Harry is a sucker for mothers, so he promises Narcissa Malfoy to look for her son. Things happen.<br/></p>
<p>
  <i>“Malfoy?”</i>
  <br/><i>“Maybe,” the voice said and the beast licked Harry's chest – a hot stripe of arousal – and then he was gone.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transformation

**Author's Note:**

> I fail at summaries. I'm sorry. Also: the art is probably creepier than the story.  
> A big thank you to Icalynn for the beta (it's not even her fandom).

“(…) It was in my dream, but all changed about, the way dreams are.  
You got out of bed, but what got back in wasn't you. It wasn't even a person.  
It was some other thing.”  
– "Thou Earth, Thou" by K. M. Ferebee, in:  
 _Wilde Stories 2012: The Year's Best Gay Speculative Fiction_  


 

**~One~**

It came to Harry in the night. It was darker than the patches of sky, and darker than the shadows of the trees, and Merlin only knew what else. Things were hiding here. Things that could eat him and he wouldn't even know it until he was halfway down a throat. 

It snaked around his ankle like fingers and he flinched and whispered, “Lumos,” under his breath. The sudden light blinded him only for a few seconds, but when he looked down at his ankle there was nothing. He looked around. Tired, exhausted really. Nothing. Black and black and more black. 

Something whispered in the leaves above his head. He could hear it through the thin tent walls. Harry shivered. He was cold and he was suddenly afraid, aware that something was watching him. Waiting until he was asleep and then – what? Touched his ankle? It was stupid. 

He was stupid. For being here, but he really hadn't known how to say no to Narcissa Malfoy. He owed her – in a way. And besides, she was a mother looking for her only son. 

He had wanted to tell her that others had looked for Draco. Capable people even. Wanted to tell her that Draco was most likely dead, that the Forbidden Forest rarely gave something back – not after so much time had passed. He hadn't. He had promised her instead to go and look. Merlin. But he was stupid. 

There were a million horrible and wonderful, but surely deadly things, things that gave grown men nightmares, here. It wasn't called the Forbidden Forest for nothing. Why Draco had come here, Harry had no idea, and if he could believe Mrs Malfoy, she didn't know either. 

Harry remembered that one time he and Draco were sent here when they were kids as a punishment. He had been afraid then, even knowing Hagrid was close by, but Draco, Draco had been terrified. Why would he come back here? 

Maybe after playing host to the Dark Lord and watching him torture and kill for fun, the Forbidden Forest wasn't so scary anymore. 

Harry shivered again as something rustled in the underbrush close by. He didn't dare close his eyes. It would be a long night.

~+~

He woke up with a start. He didn't know what had woken him up. He felt suddenly claustrophobic inside the tent and had to get out. It was morning, but it was still dark in the forest. It seemed the deeper he got into it, the less sunlight made it through the thick leaves of the trees.

His fingers clenched in the soft grass: his pinky brushed against something cold and hard. Harry glanced down. It looked like a skull. Animal. Not human and he exhaled noisily at the realization. He picked it up carefully. He really didn't want to touch that thing, but it hadn't been there the night before. He hadn't seen it when he had made his camp here. It had been left just outside the tent, so he would find it. Like an offering. 

Like something a cat would maybe drag in and leave at its owner’s doorstep. He shuddered, remembering the soft touch to his naked ankle the night before. He couldn't say now if it had been real or not. The forest was getting to him, he realized with a start. Maybe it had been getting to him for some time now. Maybe it had been washing away his inner armor from the moment he stepped into it. Like waves crashing against the shore, with every soft wave a bit of his inner strength (and sanity) had been washed away. 

He threw the skull as far as he could and broke down his camp. He really had no idea where to go from here. He had hoped that he could ask the centaurs, but he still hadn't found them. 

He hadn't found anything. Anything that was of some use anyway. He had seen signs of animals, and cobwebs with things still struggling in them. 

He was ready to call it a freaking day and let Narcissa Malfoy declare her son dead. Bury an empty casket. Be done with this whole business. Activate the tracker spell, so he would find his way out of here. Let Hermione tell him how stupid it had been in the first place to risk his life for bloody Malfoy and – but now there had been a skull left on his metaphorical doorstep. 

Something was watching him. Waiting, ready to strike. Maybe... he wasn't sure. 

He hadn't felt attacked last night, but he had still been uneasy. Frightened. 

Harry took a deep breath. The morning air at least was crisp and smelled fresh. 

He could go back, but his gut was telling him that he finally had a lead, and there was just no way he could give up now. It was curiosity for the most part. 

He wanted to know what had happened to Draco Malfoy. Wanted to know if the boy who had made his life so miserable, because Harry had refused his friendship (and why? It had been pure luck. There hadn't been any good reason to refuse Draco without giving him a chance. It had been childish.) all those years ago. 

He ran a hand over his face. Why was that second meeting with Draco still so fresh in his mind? Why could he see (now) hurt on an eleven year old Draco's face? Not the disgust he thought he saw, not the anger? 

The forest was getting to him, that and the silence, the loneliness. 

His thoughts weren't always the best company.

~+~

Harry, to his utter horror, wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not. It all felt very real: the soil under his nails as he was digging, the hard lumps he was pulling out of the hole he just dug. Shaped like eggs, but hard as stones. He was careful with them anyway, because he wasn't sure if something might be living inside them or not.

He could smell the wet soil. The roots, living, and wet and faintly green. 

He was aware of someone or something standing behind him. Whispering – not in human words, but it struck a cord with Harry anyway. He let the eggs roll behind him. Didn't look as they were taken, picked up, and crushed. He made a sound then, deep in his throat and – woke up. 

He was bathed in sweat. And he was shivering again. 

Outside the tent something was moving, he tore the flap aside as fast as he could. 

It was dark and the shape was even darker. 

He stared at it and he knew it was staring back at him, even if he couldn't make out its eyes. It was like its whole body was taking Harry in. It was gone before Harry could say, “Lumos.” 

There was dirt under his fingernails. His fingers smelled like wet soil and buried living things, faintly – rotten. He had the urge to lick them and gave in before he could even think about it properly. It tasted like earth, but underneath there was something else – something dark and wet and – forbidden. 

For some reason it made Harry think of sex. Carnal and wild. Primal. He sucked on his finger harder and felt his cock stir. 

He froze, spit the dirt out, and took a deep breath.

~+~

It felt warm and soft in places. It had angles and Harry could feel its ribcage. It was moving above him, grinding down with bony hips. He snaked an arm around it, but didn't dare to open his eyes. He was so unbearably hard. The rhythm it set was slow, languid. It reminded Harry of a snake. Lazy and content to rub against something warm.

It's mouth against Harry's collarbone was wet and hot, mouthing at the skin, licking over his veins like it was thinking about breaking the skin and lapping the blood up that would flow freely. Maybe ripping out Harry's throat so he couldn't scream. 

Harry's heart was hammering too fast in his chest. 

It laughed against Harry's neck. “Scared, Potter?” 

It was only a whisper, exhalation of breath, ripped away by a rustle but his eyes snapped open. All he could see was dark, all he could feel was his throbbing dick. 

 

**~Two~**

The stag appeared out of nowhere. One moment Harry was staring into the dark woods ahead, the next he was looking at the most beautiful animal he had ever seen. It was even more… more, than his Patronus. 

It was in fact like a negative of his Patronus. It was stark and black and there was nothing soft about it. Nothing tender or comforting. It was big and solid, slender in a way that was hard to describe. Looking at the stag made Harry uneasy. It stared at him, with unblinking grey eyes.

Something rustled in the underbrush and Harry looked away, when he looked back the stag was gone. Suddenly he breathed easier.

There was no doubt in his mind: the forest was getting to him.

~+~

As he was walking through the forest – with no real way of knowing if he was pursuing, searching, or if something was hunting him – he couldn’t stop thinking about the dreams. About their intensity and creepiness. About how they made him shiver.

There was no doubt that something was watching him, pulling him in.

~+~

It was the silence, Harry decided one night. It was the silence that made him so uneasy. The deeper he got into the forest, the quieter it became around him.

He couldn’t even hear any birds in the mornings anymore. 

The only thing there was the silence and it was pregnant. Waiting, listening. And sometimes the rustling of the wind, but even that sound was faint and muted. 

He felt like the last living man on earth. He knew it wasn’t true, he knew he had only to activate the tracker and it would lead him home, out of the forest, and into the real world where Ron and Hermione would wait for him. 

And Mrs Malfoy. The mother. 

He couldn’t turn back now, no matter what. Something was here. He had proof of it. The skull, the eggs, the stag. The freaking stag, that was also haunting his dreams in ways no animal should haunt a man’s dream. It was like a messed-up courting ritual. He could feel the beast against his naked skin, could feel its breath against his neck and its warm, soft fur between his fingers. Tugging, pulling in, pushing closer. Holding on. 

It was becoming familiar, the softness, and strength. The scent, not quite animal, not really human. 

The ache when he woke up, the hardness of his cock in his hand.

~+~

The teeth were a surprise. He stepped on them one morning, weary of the silence and his own thoughts, the longing. The pain was sharp and intense and he could feel the teeth breaking his skin.

Harry swore and then he screamed because he couldn’t take this anymore. It seemed like weeks since he entered the Forbidden Forest, maybe years. 

“I’m done!” He screamed at the trees and the silence. “I’m done. If you want to keep him, for Merlin’s sake keep him! Keep his corpse, see if I care!” 

And nothing answered him, of course, once he was done, except the silence. 

But it had felt good to hear his own voice, even if it sounded a bit off, a bit unused. 

He sat down on the ground. The grass was soft between his fingers. He had enough of this. He would go back. Tomorrow. 

He let himself fall into the grass and closed his eyes. He needed to sleep. He didn't get enough sleep lately, because there was always something lurking in the shadows. Just outside of his view. And in his dreams. If they were dreams. 

He exhaled slowly. “I mean it,” he whispered. “I'm done.”

~+~

The kiss was gentle and soft, the nip against his collarbone was not. He could feel the bite, could feel his skin tear, and the blood flow. His heart was beating way too fast in his chest and he – he was pinned to the ground, but not from above, or maybe from above. It smelled like autumn. Wet earth and dead leaves.

Cool breath over his heart. 

“Scared Potter?” That voice again. 

And yes, yes, Harry was scared. There was a wild beast pinning him down and he was too afraid, too - “Turned on?” the voice asked. There was a growl in it, but also a drawl – which... Think, Harry, for Merlin's sake, think! 

“Malfoy?” 

“Maybe,” the voice said and the beast licked Harry's chest – a hot stripe of arousal – and then he was gone. 

Harry's breathing was too fast. It was hard to get air into his lungs. He was hard again and he was not going to touch himself again. What did Malfoy mean with 'maybe'? Either he was Malfoy or he wasn't. But then Malfoy had always been – something else to Harry. 

He closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control. In, out, in, out, in...and then he was asleep and dreaming. 

 

**~Three~**

It had made no sense to stay. Harry knew that, but he couldn't leave either. He had heard Malfoy. Or some part of Malfoy. He had met – he would call it that for now – Malfoy in his dreams. Malfoy was trying to communicate with him. 

Harry made camp deep in the forest and decided to stay. The thing, the beast, was following him. Stalking, toying with him. It was just as well. It came to him, it was more than other people who have searched for Malfoy could claim. But Harry wondered if maybe, it had been the beast and not the forest that had made McCreya go crazy. He shook his head as if it would help with losing that particular nasty thought. 

He sat down in the soft grass and took a breath. 

“I know you're here,” Harry said. “You've been tracking my progress,” he continued. “You left me gifts.” Because now he knew that they were gifts. He waited. Nothing happened, but he had nothing better to do than wait. 

After a while Harry could feel someone watching him. It was everywhere, but when he opened his eyes the stag was in front of him. It was big, black and slender, and it seemed darkly amused. Its head was held high. His antlers were as dark as its fur, and glimmering, shiny as if they were wet. Harry had the stupid urge to touch them, run his fingers over the smooth surface. The stag just stood there and watched him. He got up and brushed the earth from his clothes. 

He made the first steps, half hoping the stag would run. He would have liked to tell himself it was stupid to be afraid, and that the stag was only a stag, but he knew better. 

The antlers, as he touched them, were hard and smooth and then they started to melt, the liquid black, slippery and gliding up his fingertips, the underside of his wrist, under his shirt and up his arm, his shoulder. It was – like tar. Sitting on his skin and not letting go. A line like dark vicious spittle from the antlers (or were they horns?) to his arm, the liquid covering him. He wanted to say something, to scream, but he was too afraid it would slip into his mouth, down to his lungs and he would suffocate. 

“Scared, Potter?” the voice asked, smoothly. It was everywhere, caressing Harry's skin where it wasn't covered by liquid. He could feel that voice under his clothes. Against his chest, his nipples hardened with its touch, his cock. He nodded frantically. Yes, he was afraid. 

“You should be,” the voice said and the stag melted into a puddle on the ground and as Harry watched in horrific fascination it reshaped itself into a man. A slender figure. Black all over without any facial features. It was shining wetly in the dim afternoon sun and when it was fully formed, (Harry could see it's cock, waves of short hair) it just stood there motionless. The shine was dimming, it was hardening and not only the figure but the stuff on Harry's skin too. Harry finally had the common sense to pull away, to break the threat that was keeping him in place. The spell broke and with it the black vile stuff on his skin. It rained down to the ground like flakes of ash. It started to crack around the figure too, as if it was giving birth to something beautiful sleeping, trapped inside. Like a cocoon – or an egg.

Harry wasn't really surprised at seeing what the cocoon gave free. 

Malfoy was naked, pale, and beautiful. Harry was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful as Malfoy right now.

When Malfoy opened his eyes his long, pale lashes fluttered like wings, when he looked at Harry his gaze was calculating, hungry, predatory. Harry shivered. Yes, he should be afraid. Very, very afraid. There was nothing human in that gaze. It was lust and hunger and pure animal need. Harry took a step back, Malfoy's lips curled into a smile and then he pounced.

~+~

“You ate the eggs, you took the teeth, and kept them, you accepted my gifts,” Malfoy said in his ear. He was a heavy, slippery, cool weight on top of Harry. Harry's arms were pinned to the soft ground and his heart was beating madly in his chest. It smelled like wet soil and old leaves all around him.

“Malfoy,” Harry said. 

“Use my name, Potter. You've done it before,” Malfoy said. His lips were ghosting over Harry's and they were pale and shiny too. So tempting in fact that he had to keep himself still so he wouldn't try to lean up and in and claim them. Just to see how they felt against his own lips, just to taste them. 

“You rarely used mine,” Harry said. 

Malfoy, the Malfoy thing, laughed. “Everyone did. Everyone, like they were your friends, like they knew you, like they had a right,” he sneered. “But they didn’t.” 

“Know me?” Harry asked. 

“Yes, know you. You didn’t know yourself when we first met.” 

And that was true enough. Harry hadn’t had the faintest idea who he was when he met Draco Malfoy at Madame Malkin’s. Neither had Malfoy for that matter. 

“You didn’t know it was me,” Harry said. 

“I didn’t care it was you,” Malfoy replied. “I just wanted to make friends.” 

“You were a snobbish little brat,” Harry said. 

Malfoy smiled again. His lips were pale and shiny. His teeth looked sharp and not human at all. “Weren’t we all? I miss those times, Potter, don’t you?” 

“I was fighting for my life back then, Malfoy. Every single year it just got worse. People died all around us and you miss it?” He tried again to get free, but the Malfoy thing just blanketed him, burrowed his face against Harry’s neck. Way too close to his arteries. Malfoy licked him, just over the vein there and his heart beat faster, still. He felt dizzy with it. 

“You’re afraid now,” Malfoy whispered. 

Harry took a deep breath. “Yes, I am.” 

Malfoy leaned up then graceful, fluid as water, and he was still straddling Harry, but Harry’s arms weren’t pinned anymore. They felt cold where Malfoy’s skin had touched his. 

Malfoy’s eyes were still his own, but the rest of him was somehow more, more beautiful, more defined, just – better. He was like a flawless image of a human being. It was scary as hell, because it made Malfoy anything but human. 

“You used to be brave,” Malfoy said. 

“You used to be –” human. “Different.” 

“I’m better now,” Malfoy replied. “I’m the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and you want me, I can feel how hard you are. And you aren’t even into guys, are you Potter?”

Harry shook his head, the scent of damp earth and dead leaves was heady. “No…” He wasn’t, generally, that was. He liked girls, their softness and how they smelled, but the one or other pretty boy (he had a type) had caught his eye now and then. 

“Yes,” Malfoy said softly and only then Harry became aware of his hands, somehow they were running up and down Malfoy’s cool, smooth, pale legs. His palms fit perfectly around Malfoy’s knees and Harry had the absurd urge to kiss them. Every part of Malfoy, really. From the top of his head to the soles of his feet. He wanted to roll around in the grass with Malfoy. Rub against his chilly skin and taste him. 

He sat up and leaned in so he could kiss Malfoy, so he could push his tongue inside Malfoy’s mouth. He tasted like the earth smelled. Like autumn. Strange, but not unpleasant. Definitely not human. Harry knew he should have pushed Malfoy away, but for some reason he just pulled him closer. Tangled his fingers in Malfoy’s soft hair and moaned into Malfoy’s mouth. He could feel Malfoy’s hard dick against his stomach through the thin layer of his shirt. He needed to touch Malfoy there too. Harry let go of his soft hair and ran his hand over the curves and angles of Malfoy’s perfect body, his hips fit perfectly into his hand – like Harry was meant to hold him, cradle him. He savored that feeling for a few moments and then let his hand slide inwards, over Malfoy’s stomach to his hard dick. Malfoy made noises that made Harry even harder. He kissed Malfoy again, couldn’t stop kissing him, or stroking his dick in a rhythm that was nearly violent. There was no stopping this and Harry couldn’t care less. 

When Malfoy came over Harry’s hand it was still cool and he knew that when he looked down the semen would be black as tar, so he didn’t look down. Bit Malfoy’s lip instead and tasted something ugly, felt Malfoy’s lip dissolve under his teeth, coating Harry with – something. The hard dick went soft and then liquid, all of Malfoy was liquidizing in fact, reshaping itself into that black vile stuff he emerged from. Harry got up and tried to get it off, but the stuff on his teeth was sliding down his throat and no gagging could dislodge it. 

He swallowed it down. It felt like ice in his stomach. 

When he got himself together Malfoy was gone. The air was still and silent. 

He shivered. 

 

**~Four~**

Harry had nightmares about that encounter with the Malfoy-thing in the woods, but he refused to quit, refused to go home, like a sane person would. 

He needed to see Malfoy again. Needed to know if Malfoy was cursed or kept here for some reason. He needed something more than what he had gotten so far to take back to Narcissa Malfoy.

So he stayed and waited for Malfoy to come back, for the stag, or a shift in the freaking air, for Merlin’s sake. 

The nightmares were all the same: the stag, the Malfoy-thing. Harry felt hot in those dreams, he could feel Malfoy’s weight. His fingers on Harry’s shoulders, the grass against his bare legs, the soft ground under his knees. He could feel Malfoy’s skin, taste earth and leaves at the back of his throat as he went down on Malfoy. 

The panic as he swallowed and his throat closed up around the black mess trying to suffocate him. He could feel it spread in his stomach and then in his veins, turning him from the inside into something else. 

He woke up before the transformation was completed: his heart beating, his cock hard, his stomach rolling.

He was messed up and he knew it. 

No wonder McCreya had gone mad, clawing at his skin. 

Harry had that feeling sometimes too, like he needed to grab a knife and carve himself open so he could remove whatever he had swallowed. And had McCreya sucked Malfoy’s cock too? 

Unexpected jealousy rushed through Harry`s veins at that thought. Malfoy was his. He took a breath. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that he was Malfoy’s.

~+~

Just as Harry was thinking he would go mad with the longing and the all-encompassing silence, Malfoy came back.

It was just Malfoy this time. Still beautiful, but more like the image of the boy Harry remembered from school. He came out of the woods like some kind of god. 

It was cruel, Harry thought dimly, to show him this image. Malfoy couldn’t be that anymore and had probably never been this person Harry thought he was anyway. 

They were little more than kids back then, but both of them had been terrified and fighting for their lives, in their own ways. He felt strangely close to that version of Draco Malfoy now and wondered if it was just nostalgia or something else. 

“You still don’t look like him,” Harry said, but he was stepping closer to Malfoy, meeting him halfway. 

“You don’t know how I looked back then. I was just someone you vaguely hated,” Malfoy replied. 

It was kind of true. Malfoy back then was more of a feeling than a real person in his mind. He could recall the pointy features, the paleness, and the piercing eyes, the sneer, but it wasn’t a whole person. They were just parts of a boy Harry remembered. 

Harry’s fingers made contact with Malfoy’s chest. He was smaller and slimmer in this form than Harry, but he could still feel the power in that pale body. 

“Is it you then?” Harry made himself ask, he wasn’t sure if it really mattered. To him. Or if it would matter to Narcissa Malfoy. 

“Why? Because I was a stag just a few days ago? Because I am this glorified memory now?” The smile Malfoy showed him seemed genuine, but Harry wasn't going to trust it just yet. 

“Is it a curse then?” 

Malfoy laughed. “Not everything is a curse, Potter.” He cocked his head and leaned in. The urge to kiss him was nearly unbearable, but Harry held back. The vile black stuff still gave him the creeps. 

“It's me,” Malfoy said softly, “And not.” He leaned in then and kissed Harry's check, it was a tender kiss, one he would give a child, someone beloved. Someone he cared about. Harry didn't understand why Malfoy was giving that kiss to him, why he was so tender, but Harry craved that kind of touch. Loved it, because he had been deprived of it for so long as a child. He stepped closer to Malfoy so he could feel Malfoy's skin through his thin clothes. 

The need slammed into him. He needed Malfoy, he needed to feel Malfoy against all of his own skin, he needed to rub against Malfoy and mark him that way and be marked that way and – he took a breath. He couldn't do this. 

“You are surprisingly cowardly right now, Potter,” Malfoy said and shoved him. The ground was soft as he landed, his fingers clutched at the blades of grass as he stared up at Malfoy. “You want me.” 

“Yes,” Harry said and closed his eyes. 

He could feel Malfoy sinking down beside him, could feel his hands on his chest, his fingertips sliding up and taking Harry's shirt with them. And then the pants, socks, underwear. Soon he was naked, lying in the grass and smelling autumn and earth. He didn't dare open his eyes or mouth as Malfoy kissed him, licked over his lips and then down his chin, his neck, sucked at the pulse point for a few moments before his mouth trailed down to Harry's chest. Harry arched a bit as Malfoy's lips found his nipples and teased one and then the other into hardness. He wanted to watch Malfoy progressing downwards, but he still didn't dare. 

Malfoy kissed his navel and hip and ignored his raging hard-on. He licked around Harry's balls instead and then spread his legs. Even though Harry knew what was coming he still cried out when Malfoy's tongue – impossible slim and long – slithered between his cheeks and inside him. The tongue, like every other part of Malfoy, was cool, but it felt so very good inside Harry. It made him feel hot all over, he realized he was sweating and arching into it, meeting – trying, because Malfoy's hands were pinning his hips down, every thrust of that clever tongue and he was moaning. Too loud, but then who could hear him here. His legs spread wider on their own accord, he just needed more, maybe deeper too, maybe harder. Harry didn't know. He could feel his pre-come dripping down on his stomach, pooling in a puddle on his skin. Malfoy's tongue was relentless. Harry wasn't sure he could take much more of that teasing. 

“Please,” he whispered, he hadn't meant to beg, but it made Malfoy exhale and then suck hard and yes, Harry grabbed his cock and started stroking to the thrusts: harder and faster and broader somehow. He arched off the ground with the force of his orgasm and then collapsed onto the grass, his eyes snapping open. He was shaking and the silence was all-encompassing. 

When he sat up, Malfoy was gone. 

 

**~Five~**

It was like a game, a tease, a courting, maybe. Harry wasn't sure. The only thing he knew was that he couldn’t leave, and with what Malfoy was doing to Harry, he didn't want to leave. 

He also knew that this was a slow slide into insanity. 

He needed to get out of the forest. 

He needed to get home and report that he had in fact seen and spoken to Malfoy. 

“They will look for me when you tell them you've seen me,” Malfoy said licking Harry's neck. “I love how you taste.” 

“You should go back. Your mother –” 

“My mother,” Malfoy cut in and then he bit down, none too gently, on the spot where his neck met his shoulder. Harry arched into it too. Whatever Malfoy did it always ended in pleasure. In great orgasms and an ache that Harry couldn't battle until Malfoy came back again. The only thing he was doing, Harry realized with a start, was waiting. That was no life. None at all. People back home were probably going crazy. “My mother isn't fragile, Potter. She can live alone.” 

“You don't want to go back.” 

“I have everything I ever wanted here,” Malfoy said and licked Harry's lips. One of these days Harry would open them and then? 

Malfoy laughed gently, Harry could feel it against his skin, could feel it resonate inside him, like he was hollow where Malfoy's laugh could make a place for itself. “Roll over then,” he whispered and Harry did. 

Harry loved the way Malfoy's lips felt on his back and how he sucked kisses and marks into Harry's skin, loved how it made him crazy with desire and need, knowing that soon Malfoy's tongue would be inside him. He buried his fingers in the soft earth and moaned into the grass.

~+~

The slick black thing still visited him at night in his dreams and he couldn't tell afterward if it was real or not, if it was Malfoy or something else. Something else that Malfoy was maybe only a part of. Like a splinter.

Harry knew it wanted him to let it in. In any way it could. It was stroking and teasing him. Harry always woke up with his heart racing and his dick rock hard and the ghosts of caresses on his lips and inside his ass.

~+~

“I really want to be inside you, Potter,” Malfoy said.

It was evening, the sun nearly gone, but Malfoy was still pale and nearly luminous in the approaching darkness. Harry wanted him. Needed him. 

“You are – you always –” 

“Yes, but it's not enough anymore,” Malfoy cut in, pulling Harry against his chest. Harry had exactly two choices: run or surrender. Neither seemed really appealing.

He could feel Malfoy's hard cock against his stomach. He had wondered about it, he had dreamed about it and fantasized in a vague sense. “Let me in,” Malfoy said and Harry knew that it wasn't him this time, he struggled to get free and fell – and woke up, panting, catching his breath, and clenching his hand in his shirt over his heart that was beating too fast, madly in his chest. 

This was what insanity had to feel like. He was tripping and losing track of time and his sense of place, of where he stood in the world. 

He needed to leave the forest. He had to make Malfoy understand that they weren't safe here. That something was lurking, waiting, preying on them. 

They needed to leave this place behind and never look back. 

He took a deep breath and another and another like a drowning man. It had been close, because Harry had been close to giving in and taking it – taking it in, welcoming it inside his body and... heart. 

He was falling for Malfoy, the one that came to him in the real world. Because now he knew that these were two different creatures. The thing at night, it wanted to devour him and Malfoy – maybe, Harry thought, maybe Malfoy wanted exactly the same thing.

~+~

“And what if he’s nothing more than this?” the oily thing asked. Harry could feel its cool touch on his shoulder, sliding around, and leaving a chill behind.

And then it was in front of him, an undefined mess, black and shiny. Waiting for Harry to look at it, to acknowledge what it wanted to show him. 

The mess formed hands, dripping fingers holding a skull. Bleached already like it had been lying around in the sun for years.

“He’s not dead,” Harry said. He clenched his hands at his sides so he wouldn’t be tempted to snatch the skull away. He couldn’t even be sure if the thing was real. He couldn’t trust anything he had seen or felt in the depths of the Forbidden Forest.

He knew that and still he was yearning for Malfoy. To trust that he was real. No matter what he was right now. That part of Malfoy was still the boy Harry had met at Madame Malkin’s, the boy he had fought with and wondered about, sometimes.

“Can you be sure, Harry? Maybe he is, maybe you are wasting away in a dream too. Caught in a cocoon, wrapped up nicely and stored for later to be devoured –” It showed its teeth then, and Harry woke up gasping for air. 

He lay there in the grass, because he wasn’t sleeping in the tent anymore, and just breathed, watching the leaves above him stir gently in the wind. He was naked and covered in sweat, but not hard. 

Seemed he could only get hard for Malfoy these days. 

And would it matter if Malfoy was dead? There were all kinds of things that were dead by Muggle definition, but still moved around. That was the beauty and the horror of this world, of being a wizard, of knowing these things. 

 

**~Six~**

Malfoy came to him that night again and Harry didn’t let him talk, he kissed Malfoy for the first time not caring if he would swallow any of the vile black fluid. Malfoy was perfect and pale and smooth. His lips were soft and cool and tasted like – Harry didn’t know. Like the way late autumn air smelled. That’s how Malfoy tasted – a bit frosty. 

He moaned into Malfoy’s mouth as Malfoy kissed back, let his tongue stroke Harry’s. It was good, never had anything been so good, had felt so right, and at the same time so wrong in his life. 

He pulled Malfoy with him, so Malfoy was on top, already naked skin to naked skin. Gliding in a smooth sensual dance. Harry was hard, had been pretty much since his lips touched Malfoy’s and he felt that harsh exhale of air leaving Malfoy’s mouth and settling insides Harry’s body. 

He wanted Malfoy in any way he could get him. He had over the days? weeks? months? come to terms with that want, and now he was Malfoy’s, devouring his mouth and stroking his skin. 

Malfoy was silent, and all his commands were made clear in touches only, like he knew one word could break the spell of desire Harry (and maybe Malfoy as well) was creating. 

Harry just yielded, submitted until he had Malfoy’s fingers inside him, cool and wet, making Harry moan and buck into the touch. 

He was feeling restless and horny as hell. He needed more, he pressed into the fingers, making his need and intentions clear and Malfoy kissed him hard. Harry nearly choked on that kiss and then Malfoy’s dick was sliding into him hard and smooth. Harry threw his head back, grabbed at Malfoy’s back, slung his legs around Malfoy’s middle to keep him in, and draw him closer, pull him deeper inside himself. 

The need to devour wasn’t only Malfoy’s now. Harry could feel it too. It was running through his veins and sticking to his bones. 

Harry could feel it spiral out of control as Malfoy hit that spot inside him again and again and again. His dick was leaking and begging to be touched, but a perverse part of him wanted to see if he could come like this, with his cock trapped between their bodies. Just from Malfoy fucking him relentlessly with an inhuman steady rhythm. His fingers clutched at Malfoy’s back harder, urging him on, to go just a little bit harder and faster and Malfoy did. Thrust into him so hard, it shook Harry, triggering his orgasm. He bit Malfoy’s shoulder then, to keep the scream in as Malfoy pounded him hard, balancing on the edge. It was nearly too much, he bit harder and tasted – something vaguely salty and earthy – and Malfoy went still, spilling inside Harry. 

He let himself collapse then. 

The grass was soft and welcoming.

~+~

Malfoy was still there, curled around Harry, when he woke up.

“You’re mine now,” Malfoy said, not opening his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Harry replied, because he was. “And who do you belong to?” Because he had been thinking about that other presence that was so very sinister. More than Malfoy. 

Malfoy sighed. “What does it matter?” 

Harry turned to him and got up on his elbows so he could look at Draco’s face. “I want to help you.” 

“Ah,” he said. “You want to be my hero. Okay, Potter, but what if it’s an eternal being that has me tied to it, what if I want to stay wrapped around its finger? What if you can’t kill it, because it’s immortal?” 

“They said the same thing about Voldemort, Draco,” Harry said and saw Malfoy shiver. 

“You just can’t leave things be, can you?” 

“I want to be with you, so it’s a purely selfish thing. I want to be the one you’re tied to. I don’t want to share,” Harry replied and let Malfoy drag him down so they could kiss again. He could feel himself getting hard again. Could feel the emptiness in an obscene way where Malfoy's cock had been buried deep inside him. He needed to feel full again. “Come on,” he said, making himself comfortable in Draco's lap, grabbing his cock and sliding down. “I want to feel you.” 

Malfoy moaned low in his throat and Harry had to lean down and kiss him hard, before he straightened again and started to fuck himself on Draco's dick. 

It was glorious and he never wanted to stop.

~+~

The thing came to him that night again, whispering filthy words in his ear, but this time Harry woke up. Could feel it against his skin: cool and slippery.

Everything that had a body could be killed in one way or other. 

“And what will happen to him then?” the thing whispered. 

“He will be free,” Harry said. 

“Ah, yes, but will he be alive?” 

Harry swallowed. It was unacceptable to lose Draco now. 

“You could stay here, with him,” the thing said, the “with me” went unsaid. But it was there. 

“I don’t like to share,” Harry replied. 

“Liar,” the thing said and it was amused, Harry could hear it in its voice. “You can share, but you don’t want to, because you think I’m vile and evil, but didn’t I make you feel good? Didn’t I give you Draco Malfoy to play with? Didn’t I take care of you all this time? Since you stepped into the Forbidden Forest?” 

“I–” Harry thought about it. Nothing bad had happened to him. All these things he had thought of as creepy could be seen in another light in a different situation, by any other person even. Nothing in the forest had harmed him. He was still Harry Potter, Wizarding Hero, and he would be just that once he made his way back home. 

“But do you want to leave here?”

“I can't stay,” Harry said. He wasn't feeling afraid any more all of a sudden. The Presence wasn't evil. It was, Harry thought, the spirit of the Forbidden Forest and because its nature was dark, so was the Presence. It all made sense now. Everything, except for Draco Malfoy. 

“Why not?” 

Harry shook his head. “You took Draco.” 

“No one else wanted him,” the Presence said. 

“His mother is worried sick.” 

“She was only worried once he was gone. She hasn’t talked to him much after his father had been sentenced.” 

“He's not unwanted anymore,” Harry said and could feel his cheeks color. He wanted Draco, wanted to be with him, wanted to sleep with him and let Draco fuck him and suck his cock and wake up with him and all the other things people in love want and do. 

“I know,” the Presence said. “But it's too late for him to leave, Harry.” 

“Why?” 

“Because he's becoming like me,” the Presence said. “I'm old, Harry and tired and he is young and fresh and now in love.” The Presence looked at him. “You could stay here.” 

“And die?” 

“And become what he is,” the Presence said. 

“And what is he?” 

“Anything, everything he wants to be. Immortal as long as he wants to be,” the Presence said. 

Harry was in love with Draco, there was no question there, but he wasn't sure he wanted to leave everything behind to become – something else. Something grand and immortal and feared. 

“I need to think about it,” Harry said. 

“You better hurry, Harry. I can give it all to Draco or I can share it between you two, but once it's done it's done.” 

“But you're changing Draco –” He stopped when it clicked. “You're dying. By changing him you're dying and you can only do it that one time.” 

“Well, yes. But I can divide the power between as many as I chose,” the Presence said. “You and Draco seem worthy.” 

Harry nodded. He really needed to think about it, and he needed to talk with Draco about it too. There was no way Draco could come back to the real world anymore. On some level, very primal and deep, he knew that the Forbidden Forest would change once Draco took it over, it would reshape itself to suite the new Forest Spirit. He wasn't sure he was ready to be part of it. 

 

**~Seven~**

“You’ve stopped being afraid,” Draco said as he sat down next to Harry. 

Harry leaned into his cool, naked body and shivered at the touch. Not from cold, it was pure arousal. He wanted to feel Draco against him. Looking up at Draco's face as Draco fucked him. 

“I'm not anymore. I talked to the Presence,” Harry replied. 

Draco nodded. “I was scared at first, but now I'm really looking forward to it.” 

“But you won't be you anymore,” Harry said. 

“I'm already someone else, Potter. We change constantly, my change is just a bit more drastic.” He smiled at Harry and Harry had to kiss him then, had to run his fingers through Draco's soft, silky hair and pull him closer so he could lick deeper into Draco's mouth. 

“You will stay here as the stag?” 

“Or a raven, a tree, a wolf. Whatever I want to be I can be here. You could be that too, I know the Presence talked to you about it. You want me.” 

“I do,” Harry said. “I kept the teeth, I –” 

“Yes, you did. They were courting gifts and you are mine now.” 

And there was no denying that fact either. Harry was Draco's now, but Draco wasn't Harry's. Not as long as Harry was only a wizard, human and – was there really any question? He had been alone in the forest, for Merlin only knew how long. He hadn't missed anyone. He had had the stray thought about Ron or Hermione from time to time, but they would be fine, they had each other. 

Harry didn't fit in that world anymore. He had done what he had to do. He fought Voldemort, he had won. There was no purpose waiting for him back home. Every single person he was related to was dead. He looked at Draco. 

“You are mine,” Draco said and Harry nodded. “I want you to make me yours.” 

“I need to go back. Explain –” 

“You think they'll let you leave again? You will end up in a secure cell in St Mungo's, Potter.” 

That was a possibility. 

“I need to at least tell your mother that she shouldn't be looking for you anymore.” 

“Tell her I'm gone, it will be the truth, Potter. And then come back to me.”

~+~

Apparently people had been looking for him, while he had been looking for Draco Malfoy. Harry had been lost in the forest for three months. It hadn't felt that long.

Now he was sitting in Mrs. Malfoy's parlor, holding a paper-thin porcelain cup between his hands. 

“He’s gone,” Harry said. 

“You didn't bring him back with you,” she answered. Her eyes were sharp. 

He put the cup down. “He isn't dead, Mrs. Malfoy, but he's gone. He's something else now. Something... I have no words for.” 

“You spoke to him then?” 

“Yes and he told me to tell you that he's gone. You may declare him dead,” Harry said. 

She nodded, once sharply. Harry didn't know what to say to make her feel better. “Mister Potter, what will you do now?” she asked as he got up and made to leave. 

Harry smiled. “What I'm good at, Mrs. Malfoy.”

~+~

He left his wand and his clothes at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was cold and dark, but the moon was nearly full. He heard the wolves howling (it sounded like a love song) and things rustling in the shadows. He took a deep breath and never looked back.

**Author's Note:**

> If so inclined, leave a comment for the author/artist here or at [Livejournal](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/270567.html). Comments are ♥


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